History
by lmx
Summary: Response to fanfic challenge at Press Gang Fans Forum.


**History**

Everything looks better at sunset.

The greasy film covering the murky canal water created a marbled effect over the stillness beneath. A gentle breeze occasionally disturbed it, creating unique designs, each one seeming to tell its own story, if only the observer knew how to read them. The moon was barely visible, but its ethereal reflection flickered playfully between the patterns. On the other side of the canal stood _The Gazette_ offices. By day, they were rundown and outdated. Yet, at dusk, they were a majestic sight, standing tall against the landscape, casting shadows into the night. So commanding did they appear that it was easy to miss the smaller, more fragile silhouette of the building that had once housed _The Junior Gazette. _Even this dilapidated shell looked dramatic at twilight. With the sun setting behind it, the building looked as though it was still smouldering, as it always would be in his memory.

That building had been so central to their relationship; nearly every important event had occurred there, from their first meeting to the first, second and third times they'd split up. She'd first admitted to loving him in that newsroom and her second declaration had taken place in the corridor. It pleased him to see the building still smouldering as though the fire had not gone out; it certainly had not gone out of their relationship. But, he had to remind himself, everything looks better at sunset. Perhaps the crumbling remains of the newsroom were an analogy for their relationship in more ways than one.

After all these years, he still came here when he needed to think. It only seemed right that this final decision about their future should be taken here, as pretty much all the others had been. Spike smiled wryly. He never would have predicted that this time he'd be the one who couldn't make up his mind, couldn't fully commit. But Lynda was lucky. Although she'd heard all his stories, she hadn't lived through his childhood; didn't know how violently his parents had loved and fought. The fire had never gone out of their relationship either. Eventually, it had burnt them all – he had the scars to prove it.

_She'd left the first time, when he was three. They'd been fighting and, while he didn't like it, he wasn't worried – that was just what Mommy and Daddy did. He knew that sooner or later, they'd be kissing and cuddling again and that he'd be at the centre of the cuddles, giggling with delight. That night, she put him to bed and read him his favourite story. Once she'd finished, she lightly brushed his hair with her fingers and spoke softly to him. He was drifting off to sleep and didn't hear what she was saying. He merely understood that he was the most precious thing in the world to her and then fell into a peaceful slumber_.

_The next morning, he was awakened bright and early by Uncle Eddie. He loved Uncle Eddie, even though he wasn't his real uncle and his name wasn't really Eddie. In fact, that was why he loved him; Uncle Eddie was completely crazy! You never knew what was going to happen when you were with him, but you knew it would be fun! He wasn't even surprised to be woken by Eddie, even though it had never happened before. That was exactly the kind of crazy thing his uncle would do._

_"Hey there kiddo! What're you still doing in bed? Haven't you got a job to go to?" Said Eddie, tickling the little boy who had woken up already gurgling with laughter._

_"No. I'm only three."_

_"Three, you say. Well then, it's about time you earned your keep. How d'ya fancy a day working for me?_

_He didn't really understand, but he eagerly nodded his assent. A day with Uncle Eddie! He was the luckiest kid in the world! He leapt out of bed and ran downstairs for breakfast._

_"Hi Daddy! Did you know I'm going to work today?"_

_His father smiled sadly at him. "Is that right?"_

_"Yeah. Do you want to come?"_

_"I'd love to buddy, but I've got to go to my real job."_

_"Okay. What about Mommy?"_

_James Snr. looked curiously at his son. "Didn't Mommy explain it to you last night?"_

_The little boy tried really hard to remember what his mommy had said, but it was no use. His daddy was looking at him really strangely, as though he really wanted him to remember, so he smiled and said "Oh, yeah. I forgot." He ate his breakfast and was excited because he found the plastic toy in his cereal packet. He noticed Daddy and Uncle Eddie looking at each other a lot over breakfast but couldn't work out what they were doing._

_"Right young man, it's time you got dressed, so that I can go to work." Said Daddy, once he'd finished the bowl._

_"I'm going to work too. What am I going to wear? I don't have any clothes like you."_

_Uncle Eddie chipped in "Well, for the kind of work I've got in mind, a suit would be useless. You'd better pick your favourite play clothes, I think."_

_Although it had ended so miserably, that had been the most fun-packed day of his life. He and Eddie had had a series of adventures: they'd gone to the waterfront to skim stones and Uncle Eddie thought one of his had hit Rhode Island; they'd had cheeseburgers and fries for lunch; they'd been to the park and played football and he'd found a secret passageway and hidden from Eddie. In fact, they'd had so much fun that by mid afternoon they had to go home for a nap. He'd told Uncle Eddie that he wasn't tired but Eddie had said he was the one who needed the nap, because he'd never worked so hard in his life! The little boy had been pleased to learn that work was so much fun – he was quite looking forward to growing up and going to work every day now._

_He woke from his nap, to hear Uncle Eddie and his dad talking quietly downstairs. He was still quite groggy as he made his way down, so all that he could make out were the last few words. Eddie was saying: "...doesn't seem to be affecting him at all. Kids are resilient – it's you I'm worried about."_

_"What's resilient mean?" He asked._

_"Hey there, sleepy head!" Said his daddy. "Resilient means tough and strong."_

_"Like Spike, the bulldog?"_

_"You got it."_

_"Like me?"_

_"Exactly. Now," he said scooping his son up "tell me all about your day at work."_

_His son told him all about the fun they'd had and then insisted that he was ready for more work, before dinner._

_"I don't know, Jimmy, I'm pretty beat. I don't think I could take much more work today."_

_"Oh, but this is fun. Let's work at 'Tom and Jerry'. You be Tom, Daddy, you be Jerry," pointing at Uncle Eddie "and I'll be…"_

_"Spike!" They all chorused._

_It wasn't until much later, as they were all sitting on the floor, watching Spike's Dumbo video and eating the Chinese food that he'd been allowed to order, that Spike thought to ask "What time's Mommy coming home from the office?" His mother often worked late and missed dinner._

_"Sweetheart, Mommy's not coming home tonight. I thought she told you that."_

_Spike realised he was going to have to own up. "I didn't really listen last night, Daddy. I was too sleepy. Why isn't she coming home?" He still hadn't been worried. Nothing in his young life had given him any reason to suspect that the three of them wouldn't live together forever, with Uncle Eddie coming round for food whenever he got hungry._

_His dad spoke to him in hushed, serious tones. It took a while, but eventually Spike understood that Mommy had moved out. It was just for a while, so that she and Daddy could talk, and she would be back and she'd never stop loving Spike. He'd see her very soon._

_His daddy looked so sad that Spike started to cry and once he started, he couldn't stop. He hadn't really understood but he knew that this was the worst thing that had ever happened. He'd been carried upstairs and put to bed. Daddy asked if he wanted his favourite story, but Spike just shook his head. He never wanted to hear that story again._

The Sun was gone now. All that remained was a hazy pink glow upon the rim of the horizon. The moon had become more intense; it was in charge now, a lone watchman overseeing the eerie silence of the night. Spike shivered and pulled his collar up to protect himself from the cold. But he could not move. He would not leave, until he knew what he was going to do.

_She'd only gone for a few days, but it had seemed like an eternity to her son. She came back full of promises and they'd had a party to celebrate, with jello and ice-cream and everything! Both she and daddy promised that it would never ever happen again. They told him, and each other, how much they loved each other, that the differences between them didn't matter when they had a love that strong and a beautiful boy who made them so happy. They'd let him sleep in the bed with them that night and everything had been perfect. He'd felt safe again. For a while, he was scared, when he woke up in the middle of the night and they weren't there, but then he heard laughter coming from one of the spare bedrooms and knew that everything was OK. They were back in bed with him in the morning and Mommy made them pancakes and let them eat them in bed._

_He'd almost forgotten all about those horrible few days, until the next time his mom came to his room. He was older now and knew to listen carefully to what she said. He begged her not to go, told her he'd be good, that he'd tidy his room and clean his teeth without being asked, but she wouldn't listen. She said it had nothing to do with him, that he was perfect, but he knew that wasn't true. If he was perfect, why was she leaving him? She said it was dad she was leaving, because they just couldn't be friends any more. She kissed him, then stood up and left. He was frozen to the spot for a few seconds, maybe even minutes, and then he ran after her._

_She was already at the front door, shouting at his dad, by the time he started moving. Dad was saying something like "Are you happy now? Now that you've broken his heart again!! Now that you can devote every hour of the day to your precious damned career, instead of your son."_

_Simultaneously she was yelling something like "How dare you! Jimmy will always come first with me. It's just you I can't abide. Maybe if you had one ounce of ambition or drive, you'd understand how hard it is for me and stop with the constant demands. My God, you work a 7 hour day and then expect me to do the bloody housework. It wouldn't kill you, you know, to just DO SOMETHING once in a while!"_

_Spike found it hard to work out what they were saying, because they were both incoherent with rage, but he got the gist of it._

_"Stop it." He sobbed. "Stop shouting."_

_Two horrified faces turned to look at him. "Oh honey, I'm so sorry." His mom whispered, bending down to hug him. But his dad batted her away, hitting her around the face._

_"Don't touch him." He hissed. "You've made your choice and it's not him. He'll have to get used to not having you around."He was so furious that he hadn't even noticed his hand making contact with her cheek bone. "I doubt we'll even notice the difference. It's not as though you were ever going to win any 'Mother of the Year' awards, anyway."_

_Catherine was immobile for several seconds, simply staring at the man she'd once loved so fervently. Then she shook her head slowly and whispered "What happened to you?" She collected her things and left the house without looking back._

"What happened to you?" Those words had resounded in Spike's head for years. Now, as he sat on the hard, steel bench he was asking himself the same question. What had happened to his dad? What had happened to both of them? How had they gone from the contented, joyous people he'd seen on their wedding video to the vicious enemies they'd become, unable to be in the same room as each other without hurling insults, without trying to out-hurt one another? And more importantly, how could he be sure that the same thing wouldn't happen to him and Lynda?

_She stayed away for longer that time. He wasn't sure exactly how long, because he tried not to think about her. Instead, he concentrated all of his energies into being angry with his father. It was very clear to him now that this was all his dad's fault. His mom had said it was and then he'd seen it with his own eyes. His father was a bully, who'd driven his mom away._

_James tried to talk to his son about what had happened that night. He'd been horrified when, hours later, he realised that he'd actually raised his hand to his wife and that Spike had witnessed it. He did everything he could think of to assure him that he was sorry and that he'd never do anything like that again. It was no use though. Spike was unforgiving and it destroyed James to see his son becoming more and more withdrawn. Not even Eddie could coax him out from the shroud of rage that he kept drawn around him at all times._

_Spike knew that James had called Catherine the very next day and he'd heard him cry down the phone with remorse. Catherine, however, had not been ready to forgive, or even to listen to him. In some ways she'd felt relieved; it was as though she had been vindicated for leaving. She couldn't possibly stay in an abusive marriage._

_Over time, however, she softened. She missed James so much that she ached physically, and not seeing her boy was driving her to despair. So eventually, she listened to him when he called and they decided to try to work things out, again._

_Spike was happy to have his mom back again, but he thought she was a fool for forgiving his dad. He couldn't see why they couldn't just live together and let his dad be the outsider. He also couldn't see why they had to move to California. "Too many unhappy memories here." His mom had said, but that made no sense to Spike at all; he knew they'd just be taking the memories with them_.

_He was right. They'd only been in California for two weeks, before the fights began again and his mom and dad were dredging up the past with gleeful relish. This time, he wasn't going to stick around and listen. There was no Uncle Eddie for him to visit here, so he started hanging out with anyone who was available. Inevitably this was the "wrong crowd". After a while, his parents started shouting at him as well as each other! It got to the point where none of them could remember what a normal conversation was like._

_Spike was not looking forward to Christmas that year. He was through with family, so the last thing he wanted was an entire day trapped in the house with them, everyone pretending to like each other like the freaking Brady Bunch. Apparently, his mother felt exactly the same, so once again she came to visit him in his room. This time, however, he'd barricaded the door, so she had to sit on the other side and talk to him from there. She spoke for a long time, but he made no response. In the end, she had to ask him for some sign that he was alive. In reply, he threw something heavily against the door. "Okay then, Jimmy. I can't make you talk. Please try to sort yourself out. I'll be in touch."_

_After more shouting downstairs, he finally heard her get into the car. As she sped down the lane, he opened his window and shouted after "My name's SPIKE!!" Then he bounded down the stairs and out of the house, yelling to his father "I'm going to a party."_

Geez, he'd been so full of anger! His father had done everything he could think of to 'sort him out'. He'd made him see a shrink, who sagely informed them that Spike needed a mother figure. For love of his son, James decided to uproot them once again and they travelled six thousand miles, so that Spike could at least be on the same continent as his mother. He knew her number; she'd phoned at least once a month since she left, but he never got in touch. As far as he was concerned he was better off alone. He couldn't wait until he was eighteen, then he could head back to the States and never see either of his parents again.

Of course, things hadn't worked out that way, mostly because of Lynda. He'd always regret the way things ended with his dad, but at least they'd made their peace posthumously. As for his mom, he'd never be her biggest fan, but at least now he answered her calls and they had begun to build some kind of relationship.

Maybe that's why he was finding this decision so difficult. During their conversations, she'd told him lots about her, his father and their tempestuous marriage. She'd always been upfront about her concerns about history repeating itself in Spike and Lynda but he'd never listened. In fact, he'd been the one to dismiss her claims as rubbish, when Lynda had been insecure. Why then was he so uncertain now?

He loved Lynda. He knew that with every fibre of his being. He could not live without her – they'd proved that often enough. So _why _couldn't he forget the past and reply to her message.

He took out his mobile phone again and read the very first text message he'd ever received. He had to admit, he was impressed that she'd managed to send it in the first place, and he was highly amused that she'd chosen to do this in so impersonal a manner. Typical Lynda. The message read: "So, Thompson, will you marry me?"

Spike began to type. He erased that and began again. He erased that. Perhaps he'd have a clearer idea of what to say if he saw her. But he knew that, whatever his decision, he'd have to be sure of it before he saw her. He couldn't put her through seeing his indecision; he knew from past experiences how painful that could be.

The darkness of the night engulfed him. He could no longer see the outlines of the buildings, or indeed the canal in front of him. The moon was blockaded by clouds and the only other light came from the occasional plane flying overhead. Spike tried to make himself more comfortable on the bench. He really should have brought a flask; it was going to be a long night.


End file.
